


lay all your love on me

by chel_dorado



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), squish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chel_dorado/pseuds/chel_dorado
Summary: Before Richie (the second time), Eddie didn’t like to be touched. Casual touches from coworkers would find him frozen, tense, like cracked glass about to break, fleeting brushes from passersby on the street sent him rushing to him the nearest washroom or into a violent eruption of rage, but worst of all were touches from Myra. Looking back, Eddie knows why her touches gave him the most visceral reactions, but at the time he just thought he didn’t like to be touched, that he simply wasn’t a tactile person.That all changed after Richie. After Derry. After almost dying. A lot of things changed after all of that.Or,Eddie wants to be squished by Richie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 330





	lay all your love on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kcc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcc/gifts).



> happy birthday levi my love!

Before Richie (the second time), Eddie didn’t like to be touched. Casual touches from coworkers would find him frozen, tense, like cracked glass about to break, fleeting brushes from passersby on the street sent him rushing to him the nearest washroom or into a violent eruption of rage, but worst of all were touches from Myra. Looking back, Eddie knows  _ why _ her touches gave him the most visceral reactions, but at the time he just thought he didn’t like to be touched, that he simply wasn’t a tactile person.

That all changed after Richie. After Derry. After almost dying. A lot of things changed after all of that.

If Eddie had to pinpoint a moment it happened - the yearning for Richie’s touch, to feel Richie  _ on _ him - he would probably say it was the hospital. The first thing Eddie had realized when he woke up, two days after the clown he would later be informed, was that he was fucking cold. The second thing he realized was that someone was holding his hand. Tight, in a vice grip, as if letting go of Eddie’s hand would result in something terrible, like the clown reanimating, some shit like that. The third thing Eddie noticed, the thing he would later categorize as the most important, was that it was Richie who was holding his hand. That it was Richie whose eyes were trained on him, a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something else that Eddie could not describe reflecting in them.

“Where are the others?” Eddie asks, voice hoarse and throat sore, looking around the room for any sign of them. 

“Back at the Inn, visiting hours are closed. It’s like, 2 am or some shit.”

“Then how the fuck are you still here?” Eddie questions, purposely ignoring the feeling of warmth that spreads through him at the realization that Richie stayed with him. That Richie  _ stays _ with him, if the makeshift cot off to the side and wrinkles in his shirt are any indication.

“They assumed I was your partner. Since you had no emergency contact and I was - since I was the one who carried you in. Anyway, I was too out of it to correct them, and none of the others bothered too.” Richie says, eyes shifting from Eddie’s gaze back to their hands, then to the monitor softly beeping off to the side. “Why didn’t you have an emergency contact, Eds? You’re married, dude.”

“I removed Myra as my emergency contact a while ago. Last time I got hurt - minor car accident - she freaked the fucked out. I figured it was better to have no contact than deal with her,” Eddie answers, refusing to think of what it means when he  _ wants _ Richie to be here - when he wants to update his emergency contact to Richard W. Tozier. He can think about that later, or not. Ignoring things is good, sometimes.

A soft “oh,” is the only answer he receives. He waits for more, but it seems like Richie is content with just looking at the monitor, refusing to focus on Eddie.

Not used to silence and Richie coexisting, Eddie opens his mouth before he can think it over, “Get the fuck up here with me, dude.”

“What?” Richie asks, turning away from the monitor to look at Eddie.

“Get in bed with me. I’m fucking cold and I just -” 

“You just what, Eds?”

“I just want you closer to me, Richie.” Eddie snaps, not intending for it to come out that harsh, but he’s tired and cold, and he just wants Richie in this small hospital bed for fucks sake. 

Slowly, Richie stands and makes his way closer to the bed, closer to Eddie. Somehow, through all of this, he still doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand. Eddie idly wonders if maybe they really  _ do _ need to be holding hands. Wonders if maybe that’s how Pennywise will stay dead, if all of the losers just hold hands for the rest of their lives. It’s probably just a drug-induced thought, but Eddie finds that he wouldn’t mind it. Having to hold onto Richie’s hand for the rest of his life. 

His thoughts are interrupted but the covers slowly being peeled back, done in an act so gentle it almost doesn’t seem like it’s Richie who’s doing it. Eventually, Richie makes his way into the bed, pressing up against Eddie as he tries to find some room in the small bed.  _ Just get on me _ , Eddie thinks, somewhat shocked by the thought. But before he has time to really think about it, about what the  _ fuck _ he meant by that, Richie is fully in the bed, a combination of next to him and on him. 

So it’s then, that Eddie thinks that maybe he doesn’t hate being touched as much as he thought. 

It’s not until an hour has gone by and Richie, deep in sleep, adjusts his position a little so that he’s somewhat lying on top of him does Eddie realize  _ oh, this feels nice.  _ He thinks of all the time he recoiled from touch, from strangers, from coworkers, from Myra, and he wondered how he ever hated it. He knows why, in the back of his mind, that it’s because none of them were ever Richie. None of them ever made him feel this safe. But like a lot of things tonight, Eddie chooses to ignore it. 

Rather, he chooses to focus on right now. On Richie’s thigh on top of his, somewhat heavy, but not uncomfortable. Definitely not unwanted. He focuses on Richie’s arm, his fucking  _ big _ arm, wrapped around Eddie’s chest. He thinks it should hurt, given the fucking hole in his chest, but Eddie likes the pressure, he likes the weight. He focuses on every part of Richie that’s covering him because it’s easier than focusing on  _ why _ it feels so good, so comforting, so  _ safe _ . He knows these feelings come from the past twenty-odd years of feeling hollow, like a part of him was carved out of him and misplaced. He knows they came from an adolescence of touches like this, of hours spent wrestling in a hammock, ending with Richie laying on top of him, either in the hammock or the inevitable fall to the floor when they started moving too much. Looking back, Eddie’s  _ always _ sought this out, the feeling of Richie on top of him. When he wasn’t thirteen and chasing a clown he was thirteen and chasing  _ this _ , Richie’s presence, Richie’s comforting weight on or next to him. He was chasing Richie. Thinking back on the past two decades of his life, maybe he was still chasing Richie. In late-night comedy shows turned on when Myra was asleep, in mountains of blankets, all ugly patterns, covering and weighing him down at night. 

It’s now, after this trip down memory lane, that Eddie realizes he fucking  _ sucks _ at ignoring things. He knows why he loves to be squished - as teenage Richie would say - by Richie the same as he knows why Richie has slept in his hospital room ever since Eddie was admitted. 

A small, feral part of him wants to wake Richie now, to kiss him senseless until his heart monitor acts up and a nurse rushes in to check on him. But the other part, the part that just wants to feel Richie on him, the part that doesn’t want the weight of Richie on top of him to go, let’s Richie sleep. Instead, he presses a soft kiss to Richie’s forehead and smiles when Richie moves even  _ closer _ to him in his sleep. 

Eventually, Eddie falls asleep to the thought of what it would be like to have Richie’s full body and weight on top of him. He decides that one day, once the fucking hole in his chest has healed (or maybe even before then) he’s going to find out. But for now, this is enough. 

It's not until two months later - two months, one week and five days if Eddie's counting,  _ which he's not _ \- that he finally experiences what it feels like to be fully covered by the weight of Richie Tozier. Sure, he's had previews of it in the past months, from movie nights on the couch when Richie falls asleep ten minutes in and leans on him as he sleeps, to lying in bed together when Richie rolls over in his sleep, putting  _ some _ of his weight on Eddie. Fuck, even during the losers road trip to visit Stan Eddie felt it, when he and Richie were crammed in the back of Bill’s tiny a balls car, but that’s not the real experience. That’s not what Eddie  _ craves.  _

Day 68 is the day Eddie finally experiences it. 

He’s had a long fucking day at work, and sure his new job is immensely better than his old one, but  _ fuck _ , today was just. Bad. Cooper, the new employee, doesn’t have a fucking clue and Eddie wonders whose dick he sucked to get the job. And on top of that Eddie just...missed Richie. Which is  _ stupid _ , because they live together and he sees Richie every night and every morning before work but. He went 20 some years without Richie. He’s allowed to miss him. To want to make up for lost time. 

He walks into their house - Richie’s old house, except now filled with personal touches such as photographs lining every wall and covering every surface, Eddie’s favourite blankets lining the back of the couch, a dog bed and toys littering the floor, and indication that Richie and Winnie were playing throughout the day. Anyway, he walks into their house, their  _ home _ , slamming the door with a little more force than necessary but fuck it. Seconds later, he’s greeted by Richie and Winnie, snuggled down in Richie’s arms, both with a look of confusion on their face once they take in Eddie’s pissed demeanour.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Shuffling Winnie in his arms so Eddie can get a better look at her, uncovering the rainbow cape Richie has her in. The cape Eddie has never seen before. Looking away from Richie and back into the living room, Eddie realizes a  _ lot _ of the toys littering the floor are unfamiliar. So Richie definitely took Winnie on a trip to PetSmart. Again. 

Regardless, that’s not Eddie’s main concern right now. Right now, his main concern is being squished underneath his boyfriend like a bug. Or whatever gets squished.

“I’m going to ask you to do something for me. And it’s a little weird, maybe, but I’ve wanted this for - for sixty-eight fucking days and I just  _ need _ it.”

“What?”   
  


“I need you to lie on me. On top of me. Like when we were kids and you would ‘squish’ me or whatever the fuck you called it.” Eddie says in one breath, as if saying it all at once makes it less clingy, less whiny. 

“That’s it? Come on then,” Richie laughs, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him further in the house, “Bed or couch?”

“Couch is fine,” Eddie mumbles, emotions tied between embarrassment and overwhelming love. 

Logically, Eddie knows that Richie would do anything for him, that he already  _ has _ done everything for him. In the months they’ve been back together and all the years before that in their childhood. Everything Richie has ever done has been for Eddie. But twenty-some years without that, without the constant reassurance of pure love has ruined Eddie, in some ways. He’s still afraid to ask for things sometimes, too used to his mother and then Myra telling him no about so many things he once wanted. Things he thinks he still wants. 

But this is Richie, Eddie realizes as he looks up from the floor and towards Richie. The same Richie who stood between him and the clown when they were only 13, who tried to do the same again when they were 40. Everything Eddie has ever wanted or needed, Richie has given him. It’s why he’s here in the first place, in their home, with Richie and their dog, who Eddie now realizes are  _ both  _ wearing matching rainbow capes. 

“I like your capes,” Eddie whispers once they reach the living room, not wanting to break the quiet, “cute.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Richie laughs, apparently just now remembering the thing. It’s a sound Eddie will never tire of hearing, Richie’s laugh. Eddie wants it played into his brain every waking minute of the day. Sometimes it worries Eddie, just how obsessed he is with Richie. Most of the time it comforts him, knowing Richie feels the same, “We got you one too.” Richie says once he’s back by the couch, having deposited Winnie in one of her  _ four _ beds. Because she needs variety, Richie says. Whatever the fuck that means. 

“I’ll try it on later. Squish now, cape later.” Eddie whines, reaching for Richie. Eddie would feel embarrassed, if he acted this needy in front of anyone else. Then again, Eddie wouldn’t be doing this  _ with _ anyone else. There’s a lot of things Eddie wouldn’t do with anyone else.

“Alright,” Richie laughs again, gently lowering himself onto the couch, onto Eddie, “So you just want me to lie down on you? I could buy you a weighted blanket if you want, so I don’t crush you.” 

“That’s the whole  _ point _ , dipshit. You won’t hurt me,” Eddie adds, once he sees the subtle look of fear and hesitation on Richie’s face, “I’m okay, Rich.”

Realizing Richie still isn’t certain, that he still worries about hurting Eddie, who is only now able to walk short distances without crutches, Eddie grabs Richie’s arms and pulls. 

It hits him in that moment - literally - when Richie finally falls onto Eddie that  _ this _ is what he’s been waiting for. What he’s been waiting for for 68 days but also for twenty-odd years. 

He knows there’s no going back after this, that now that he knows how it feels to be covered by Richie Tozier he’s going to want it every day for the rest of his life and even after that. 

“Is this okay?” Richie mumbles, face pressed into Eddie’s neck.

“Mmmprh,” is Eddie’s only reply, too content and blissed out to say anything else. Wanting to convey to Richie that  _ yes, this is more than okay please never get up _ , Eddie pulls Richie in even closer, pressing more of his weight onto Eddie. 

Eddie wants to speak, wants to tell Richie that this, that he, is perfect. He wants to say this is the best he’s felt in twenty-odd years, but he thinks that might be dramatic, thinks Richie might take offence to  _ this _ being the best thing to happen to him when they multiple times daily and fall into bed together almost just as much nightly.

“Feels nice,” is what Eddie goes with, in the end. Because it  _ does _ feel nice, being able to feel all of Richie on top of him, from his shoulders pressing into Eddie’s, to Richie’s soft, round stomach resting over Eddie’s firm, scarred one. It feels nice to feel every part of Richie, to have him be so  _ close. _ Blissfully, Eddie realizes that they just  _ fit _ together, kind of the same how all the losers fight together in group hugs, but kind of different too. This is just them, Richie and Eddie, Eddie and Richie. R+E and a little R carved in a heart in the kissing bridge. 

_ Thank you for being so big _ , Eddie thinks.  _ Thank you for loving me _ , lies between those lines, the same way Eddie lies between Richie and the couch. Rather than speak and break the silence, Eddie stretches to kiss Richie’s neck, his cheek, behind his ear, hoping the words can be found within the kisses. If the way Richie pulls back to properly kiss him says anything, Eddie thinks Richie understood him.

It becomes a regular occurrence after then, “The Squish” as Richie calls it. On days when Eddie comes home from work in a mood, stressed about deadlines and workers who can’t  _ tell their fucking head from their ass, Rich. It’s insane _ . It happens on most movie nights now, whether they start out that way or if they just end up that way halfway through the movie. It’s how Eddie wakes up on weekends and holidays, to a comforting, now familiar, pressure covering him. It happens naturally, it happens when Eddie asks, but also when  _ Richie _ asks, too, now unafraid of hurting Eddie. He tells Eddie, one night during “The Squish” that it helps Richie calm down, knowing that he’s protecting Eddie from the world. He doesn't have to say it for Eddie to know that it brings Richie back to Neibolt, to the time he  _ couldn’t _ cover and protect Eddie. 

The confession then makes Eddie tell Richie, during the next “Squish”, why  _ he _ likes it so much, feels as though it’s only fair. He tells Richie about the countless blankets bought in his adulthood, all with loud and ugly patterns, that he would cover himself with, even on the hottest summer nights. Tells Richie that he thinks he’s been craving  _ this _ since he ever left Derry the first time. He tells Richie that it calms him down the same way, being protected. Like Richie, it brings him back to Neibolt, when he felt Richie’s pressure on his wound, and isn’t  _ that _ fucked up? Him yearning for a touch he felt as he was dying. But it was comforting, it was Richie. Part of Eddie still believes it was that pressure that kept him alive, a combination of keeping pressure on the wound and awakening a deep need inside him that Edde would not die without having fulfilled. Eddie doesn’t say that, in his confession, but he’s sure Richie hears it anyway.

So anyway, it becomes a regular occurrence, happening at least once a week, but most times more. Every “Squish” is special because it’s Richie, but this one, Eddie thinks, might be his favourite. 

“You’re not even going to let me out of my tux before we Squish, babe?” Richie laughs as Eddie tugs him towards the bed. It makes Eddie smile, that Richie  _ knows _ why Eddie is dragging him to the bed. It makes him feel a little deranged too, that rather than fuck his  _ husband (!!!)  _ of six hours, Eddie just wants to lay down with him first.

Rather than dignify him with a response, Eddie turns around and slides the tuxedo jacket off of Richie’s shoulders, too focused on his husband and his big fucking shoulders than to worry about where the jacket lands, Bev would be mad, he thinks, to know part of her custom made suit is now lying on a hotel floor, but Eddie can worry about that later. Right now, all he’s concerned with is having Richie’s body cover his.

Unlike all the other times they’ve fallen onto a bed together, this one is accompanied by the soft clink of their wedding rings, as Eddie reaches with his left hand to grab Richie’s, just to hear the sound of metal on metal once more. This time, when they fall onto the bed, wrinkling their tuxedos as they shuffle around to get comfortable, Eddie can say that his  _ husband _ is lying on top of him. It’s the same as all of the other times his boyfriend and then his fiance covered him, but it’s also different too. It’s better, Eddie thinks with a smile.

“Love you,” Eddie mumbles into Richie’s hair, unruly after a night of dancing and making out with Eddie - who can  _ never _ kiss Richie and  _ not _ touch his hair at least once, “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Eds,” Richie replies, head hidden in Eddie’s neck, pressing light kisses to the skin.

“I’m still mad you mentioned “The Squish” in your vows,” Eddie says after a moment, not wanting to be encased in silence. There’s nothing wrong with laying in silence with Richie, most of the time they lay together without speaking for minutes, but like a lot of things, it’s different tonight. Tonight, Eddie wants nothing more than to hear Richie speak.

“You’re just mad our friends know you’re a clingy bastard,” Richie laughs, “Besides, all I said was ‘I promise to do the squish whenever you need it’, you’re the one that explained it.”

“Because it sounds like a sex thing, Richie.”

“And we can’t let them know we have sex, can we?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, with no real meaning to his words. What he really means is  _ never stop talking and joking around with me, never stop making me feel safe. Never stop, never stop, never stop. _

He doesn’t say these things, not only because Richie is now talking about how close Bill and Mike were on the dance floor tonight, but also because, like with so many things, Richie can hear the words Eddie omits. And, when he lifts his head to look down at Eddie and smile, Eddie knows that Richie heard him and that he knows well enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on twitter @richieIlovebot!


End file.
